I, as the author (that sounds really nice to say. Well, write.), am confused about my timeline so I have been kind enough (it took 30 whole seconds of my time) to look back and find out where we are. The answer … I dunno. The beginning of this chapter is mid February (?) and after the timeskip (no, that doesn't count as a spoiler), we're in March.

Believe it or not, I do (kinda) have a plan for where this is going. JK Rowling made some of it. But that's happening in chapter … 60? 60? Long long time.

Sorry this took a while. I'm slow and lazy and I've been ill and MY CAT IS SO ANNOYING.

This is pretty lighthearted. Don't worry - the angst is coming. Just you wait. MWAHAHAHAHAHA!

Also, I've thought of a way to have some Rabastan/Andromeda! No, I'm not going to tell you. Wait a bit.

THE REFUGE

February 1970

Judy and Andromeda stayed in the Common Room until midnight, trying to forget the world. The walls of their respective boxes had retreated, the pressures on their shoulders lessened for the time being. Slowly, slowly, other students packed away their essays and gobstones sets to go to bed, the room descending into a comfortable silence. The dim green light was soft and gentle, the sofas like clouds.

"I wonder," Judy said, "Whether the world will ever be right again." Her eyes reflected the firelight.

Andromeda turned to her. "Is it wrong now?" Her voice seemed too loud in the silence. She was afraid the atmosphere might shatter and the outside world break through.

"Ever so wrong. Everything's … backwards. Shouldn't Hogwarts be the safest place for children? It seems to be worse here than at home. The influence … his influence is … everywhere. Kids are turning into monsters."

Andromeda didn't say that, for her, he had already taken over. She didn't say that home was the most painful place for her. She didn't say how scared she was. "We have to pretend, Judy. We have to pretend or the monsters will eat us." She thought of Bellatrix, who was too far gone to ever be sane again. She thought of the children who attended their Christmas parties, faces blank as dark dolls. He was creating generations of killers. "I don't know how we'll ever escape it all."

Judy had never been so serious in her life as she said, "I'm not pretending. Never will I pretend to enjoy killing others. I don't mind if we never escape - I will die for this. I know I'm only sixteen and I'm young and I've got a life ahead of me, but if no-one acts, there'll be no innocent life at all. Andromeda, that man is taking away childhood."

"Yes," she said, and left it at that. How could she ever act? Against her parents and sisters and fiance? How could she ever act against her whole life?

"Is Rabastan...?"

She nodded, remembering that terrible mark on his arm.

"And Bellatrix?"

"All of them." She thought of a dinner party with a hooded man, one which her parents had been especially stressed for, "I'm scared. I'm surrounded by them, and soon enough they'll wonder why I'm not one too."

The silence seemed to grow quieter.

Judy didn't say anything, so Andromeda went on. She couldn't stop, letting the words roll out of her. "I'm worried they'll assume I'm like them. I'm worried I'll be forced to do something I don't believe in. I'm worried that my only two options in life are killer or housewife." She looked to her best friend, "I'm scared, Judy. Scared that I'll make the wrong choices and end up as mad as the rest of my family."

Judy just smiled, "I trust you, Andromeda Black. You'll do the right thing."

The clock in the corner chimed midnight, the flames of the hearth flickered out, and a yawn built in Andy's throat. They climbed the stairs to the dormitory in silence.

The room was dark, green hangings swaying in the wind from the open window. As she got into bed, Andromeda found herself imagining a world without him. Without you-know-who. Surely a world like that wasn't possible? A world without that higher evil. Her whole life had been shadowed - when she was very young, everyone had still lived in fear of Grindelwald's return, and now this new threat had arrived and half the world was fighting with him, the other half resisting. She imagined that other half, whom she'd never had contact with, in robes of flowing white. She imagined them falling, falling, red blossoming over their hearts. She imagined them dying, and thought that must be an accurate representation of the future: blood soaking the pure; Darkness taking the Light.

She wondered whether the world would ever be right again.

A month passed - a cycle of avoiding Umbridge, prefect patrols, homework, conversations that always fell short, and Ted Tonks.

Andromeda was rather ashamed to say that she still fancied Ted Tonks. In fact, it was increasing steadily. That meant blushing, stammering, clumsiness, and general things that certainly didn't suit a lady at all. They were permanent partners in Advanced Charms, and by this stage, more flirting was done (by Ted) than spell-casting, and more blushing (by Andy) than breathing.

More letters - in fact, so may so that it was getting rather tedious to hear the same crazed rants from Bella and expectant drivel from her parents and sickly sweet notes from Rabastan.

Lessons: boring. In every other year she had enjoyed her subjects, but NEWT work was nastily exhausting, and a lot more theory than anyone was used to (even Andromeda, whose parents had long been hiring tutors for her).

Judy was alright now. She had converted back almost to the loudness levels she had reached before. Her smile quick and wits sharp, she was back to being her. Of course, the odd worrisome letter from her mother came through, telling of her father's depleting conditions and to 'not worry too much, darling', which never helped.

A month like the breath of fresh air before the plunge.

March 1970

Ted and Andy were patrolling again. The awkwardness with which their first patrol had gone had dissolved in laughter and smiles.

"So … how's Slytherin?"

Andromeda shrugged, thinking what a vague question that was. "Good."

Ted turned to her, laughter in his eyes, "You do realise some people in the other houses think everything about you lot is slimy and Dark?"

She laughed, "We live under the Lake. Of course it's slimy."

"And Dark?"

"Not if you stay away from the wrong crowd."

The conversation seemed to become low, "And who's that?"

Andy shrugged, "Macnair. Malfoy. All that lot. Sitting in the corner of the common room, thinking they're so important. No-one likes them. People are afraid; people want to be their friends to escape their wrath. But nobody really likes them. Not really."

Ted frowned, "There'll always be some. Are they … just believing him, or are they actually …" he trailed off. "I mean, how far do they…"

Andromeda thought of the tattoos a couple of them proudly displayed in the green light of the common room. She thought of the books they passed around, the occasional speech to everyone else in the room. She thought of them saying 'the Dark Lord', as if he was some god, some great being far above themselves, how they revered him, and some seemed to know what he looked like, how she'd once heard a seventh year describe his actual appearance. "I don't know," she said, something inside her wanting to protect Ted's view of her house, "Can't be too serious, can it? They're all just kids."

But was she just trying to convince herself?

Ted 'hmmmm'ed. "We're kids and you're already bloody engaged," he muttered.

She couldn't bring it inside herself to be bitter anymore. Couldn't, after two and a half months of this constant onslaught of questions and comments on her betrothal, even bear to think about it anymore. It was all already thought out, every excruciating detail, everything that could happen in the rest of her lifetime and every way to avoid it. She mimicked Ted, "Mmmmm."

"What about Judy?" He asked. Andromeda knew he'd never even spoken a word to Judith Crouch, but she appreciated the sentiment anyway. "She seems … different this term. I've hardly seen her at all. Normally she's in the spotlight."

Andromeda hadn't thought about that. "She's going through some things. I guess she doesn't want to be too conspicuous." And that was true. Andy had hardly seen Judy speak to anyone since the letter came (unlike the last few years, in which Judy had been the loudest and funniest in every room, attracting every eye), but she hadn't considered that it might be because of the situation with her mum. Was Judy trying to keep the eyes away from her, to stay under the radar?

"I-" Ted broke off, frowning. "What's this?"

A small arrow was carved into the ancient bricks of Hogwarts castle. It must be old, too - no vandal would make such a discreet shape, small and elegant at waist-height. The brick was also slightly weathered around it, as if a hundred people had run their finger across…

Andy lightly brushed her index finger from the fletching to the arrowhead. A creaking groan, like a stone monster waking from a great slumber, echoed in the corridor. It wasn't loud, and as prefects they were perfectly entitled to be there, but she found herself looking around anyway, trying to discern whether the sound was loud enough for anyone else but her and Ted to hear.

While scanning everywhere else, she nearly missed the wall as it slid open with a final rasp of stone and clicked into place. A thin gap was before her, like a doorway, and only just wide enough for them to get through.

She wondered what ancient beasts lurked in the dark. She'd heard plenty of stories where students went missing in the castle, when secret passageways closed on them and they starved, or a troll lived in a remote dungeon corridor that ate first years, and there was one about a dragon in the west wing (which was impossible, she was pretty sure), and this seemed just like another one of those tales.

Naturally, she walked straight in.

With a quick "Lumos," the room was lit with harsh wandlight. Chairs. A table. An ornate fireplace. It looked like a teacher's office from the dusty bookcase in the corner to the various teacups on the mantelpiece.

"Wow," breathed Ted, who had obviously followed her in. "This place hasn't been touched in decades. Look at this dust!"

There seemed to be an unspoken rule to whisper.

"These books," Andy said, scanning the shelf, "Ancient. History of magic, it looks like. These would sell for thousands of galleons. You have no idea how much ancient texts cost."

"Honestly?" he said, "Thousands?"

"Yeah."

They explored further, from the portrait of a sad-looking girl holding a cat (which looked long dead, though they didn't have the heart to tell the girl that), to the wand that still lay on the desk.

"Looks like the professor never packed away. No-one would leave their wand."

"Wish he was still here. Probably better than Binns."

Andy laughed lightly, as if anything louder would shatter the atmosphere. "Probably long, long dead."

As they thought about the fact this was decades ago, and that the wand was still there, they grew silent. "Maybe we should tell someone." Ted said. "I mean … all his stuff."

"Or her. But yeah. What if they had a family? They'd want the wand."

"And the books. Any chance we could just … not mention the books?"

In the end, they packed most of the stuff up, even a majority of the books. They'd found an empty trunk under the desk, and had put the books and other trinkets like a handsome paperweight and a cloak inside, with the wand neatly on top.

"We'll take it to Dumbledore," said Andromeda. "He can decide what to do. Chances are, the professor was one of his employees or colleagues or something."

And they did, trudging along the corridors and dragging the trunk behind them, wincing at the noise the faulty wheel made.

Andy wondered what her parent would think if they knew she was doing such thing with a mudblood. They'd move her to Beauxbatons, at least. Probably curse her head off. But she found herself not really caring, because Ted was kind and sweet, and even funny, which wasn't something she was used to, so was pleasantly surprising. They were friends, which was something beautiful and delicate that Andromeda experienced so rarely nowadays, with no-one but Judy and perhaps Narcissa.

"Oi!" came a harsh voice from down the corridor.

They turned to see Apollyon Pringle limping towards them, a scowl on his face, nose scrunched and forehead creased.

"What you doin' down 'ere?" He said, rough east London accent grating in the air as he looked down at them.

He was incredibly tall, and might be handsome if he didn't spend all day and night frowning, which left wrinkles on his face like deep trenches.

"We're prefects," Andromeda said. She turned to Ted, "We're patrolling."

Ted certainly wouldn't be helping anytime soon. He was frozen solid, staring up at Pringle as if he was the Dark Lord himself.

She rolled her eyes. Boys.

"It's one in th' mornin'. Ain't no patrols past eleven. I dunno what you fink you're doin', but you're cer'ainly not meant 'a be 'ere."

"We found something, sir. We're taking it to Professor Dumbledore."

"Seems like a lovers' adventcha to me. You bin at th' broom closets the last few hours? Trying t' act all goody-goody prefects?"

"No! We're not … eugh." She found herself full of the best broom closet imaginings, but pushed them away. "Look, we're prefects." She held out her badge to him.

"Prefects like broom closets as much as th' next student. The fings I've seen in all these years. Scar your soul, they would. Naughty naughty children."

"Look, Mr. Pringle. Take us to the headmaster. He'll speak to us, and if he wants to give us a detention, he can." She looked him in the eye, not blinking, not backing down.

She really couldn't get in trouble again. Not if she wanted to keep her head firmly on her shoulders.

He looked like he wanted to refuse, but after a god minute of glaring at her, eyes bulging comically (but scarily, apparently, for Ted, who whimpered), he gave a sharp nod and gestured for them to follow him.

They followed his wandlight, Ted seeming a little unsteady, ("What is wrong with you, Edward? Come on, or he'll give us a detention for lagging behind.") but seemed unenthusiastic to be on Pringle's bad side, ("Alright, alright." … "What if he just takes us to his office?").

Finally, they stood in front of a statue of a griffin. Pringle glared at them again (more whimpers) and told them to stay put as he muttered a password and ascended a magically moving staircase.

Andromeda turned to her fellow prefect, who seemed a lot calmer than he had been five seconds ago. "What's wrong with you? You were terrified!"

"He's scary."

"He's dumb."

Ted looked unconvinced. "Scary. Caught me once in fourth year. Still got the marks."

She frowned, "He beats students?"

"Only if they're really bad."

"What, like you? I can't imagine you breaking the rules at all, never mind anything 'really bad'. What did you even do?"

He smiled a bit. "Dungbombs in his underwear drawer. You know, the ones that don't wash out?"

Andy stared. At his utterly serious, almost sombre face. And started to laugh.

It started as a kind of hiccough. And rose and rose until she was giggling like a madwoman. Ted seemed confused but started laughing anyway, until both of them were in stitches for something so unfunny that neither of them were sure why they started laughing at all.

It was in this condition, needing the wall to support themselves, that Professor Dumbledore found them, dressed in a bright purple nightshirt and a green cap, each covered in miniature pictures they couldn't quite make out.

"My, my," said Dumbledore. "A laughing hex? Over-enthusiastic cheering charm?"

Pringle, lurking behind him, spoke, "No. I found these two in the corridors."

"They're prefects, Apollyon."

"Too late for prefects, sir. They say they need to see you."

They had straightened up by then, and looked at the elderly headmaster.

"We found this," Andromeda said. "It was in an office, and we thought you might want to … well, look."

She gestured at Ted, who opened up the trunk and held out some of the stuff.

Dumbledore started to mutter under his breath either to himself or to them, Andy wasn't sure. "Ah. The wand seems old. Handcarven, intricate. Nowadays they hardly add patterns as flamboyant as this. And the books … History, it seems. Old texts. Very old. Look at the dust on that cloak. Also old … the tag says made in 1883." Dumbledore looked up. "I knew the man who taught before Professor Binns only very briefly - Flavius Lennox. It seems you have found his office. I'm quite curious as to where you came across it - I've been searching for many years."

Nearly a hundred years, it seemed.

Andromeda was about to open her mouth and tell Professor Dumbledore where it was - fourth floor. There's an arrow next to the tapestry of the boy riding the dragon - but Ted beat her to it.

"I don't remember. It was dark, and we were chatting. Not really looking where we were going, Professor."

She tried not to look too surprised. Who knew Ted Tonks could lie? Why did he lie at all?

Dumbledore's eyes were fixed on his. "Really?"

"Yes."

"And you, Miss Black? Do you remember?"

Would she tell him? The man who the entire wizarding world (excluding the Black family) loved and revered, who devoted his life to teaching children, no matter of their blood status? Could she lie to him?

She had lied to her father about stealing a cupcake before dinnertime at Bellatrix's tenth birthday. She had lied to her mother about drinking the finest elf-made wine from the cellar last year. She had lied to Grandfather Arcturus, even, all the times she had assured him of how gentlemanly her fiancé was. She could certainly lie to a mad old man.

"I don't think so, sir."

She didn't let Dumbledore look into her eyes. Only a fool would look a powerful wizard in the eye. Instead, she looked a centimetre to the left. Legilimency only worked with complete eye contact.

Dumbledore nodded, "I will take this to his daughter, who I'm quite sure is turning eighty-three years old this Friday, and living in Norfolk. Thank you."

As he walked off, he looked at Ted one last time. He knew.

Pringle told the two of them to return to Hufflepuff and Slytherin, respectively, and walked off, grumbling under his breath.

Andy looked at Ted. "You lied."

He turned to her, "So did you."

"You started it."

"And you ended it."

She huffed impatiently, "He knows we lied. Did you see his face? He used legilimency on you, Edward."

"And he doesn't care."

They started walking. "Why?" Andy asked, breaking the comfortable silence, "Why lie?"

"I dunno," Ted said. She could barely see him in this light, but she knew his eyes must be scrunching up in thought, that his lips were twisting uncomfortably, "I just thought … it's a good place to go. A good place to have as a secret. Might be useful."

Andromeda couldn't help but think of Pringle's broom closet comments, and the thoughts they had provoked. "Yeah. Useful."

At the point where they'd have to part - Ted to go to the Hufflepuff common room and Andromeda to continue descending towards the dungeons - Ted stopped abruptly.

"Look, Andy, I…" He didn't look scared as he had earlier, but nervous. "I was wondering. There's a Hogsmeade visit. Next week. Would you like to come? With … with me?"

Andromeda grinned. "I'd love to."

Lennox's office, the next morning, was where they arranged a study date.

Well, that's what she called it in her head. In reality, Ted had said, "There's a Charms test on Monday. Do you want to practice tomorrow so we're ready?"

She had never thought anything could be so confusing. They were meeting at Hogsmeade next weekend, and she thought of that as a date. Of course, with Rabastan, she wasn't supposed to be dating. Did Ted realise that it couldn't be public? Did he see it as a date at all, or was she taking everything the wrong way?

He was already there when she got to their secret place. He'd cleaned it up a bit (he'd transfigured the hard wooden chairs into comfy sofas and fixed the light, summoned blankets and cushions from who-knows-where, tidied up the bookshelf, added a few books of his own - muggle literature, mostly, but Andromeda could see a large range of textbooks too - wiped up the dust, and much more), and it looked like a different place. Homely, like their own secret refuge. For that's what it was, really. A way to be at peace, a place to get away.

"It's perfect," was the first thing she said.

Ted smiled, "Thanks."

And they wasted away their Saturday morning, talking and laughing and studying.